“More. God, I’m so close ...” Nick closed his eyes, but opened them again immediately, as if he couldn’t bear to not be looking at John. He was gasping, his body hot and smooth around John’s cock, and John could feel the tension in his thighs, in his hands still on John’s arse.
He would have liked to make Nick wait, draw out this moment of clarity before everything blurred together in a rush of sensation, tease him just a little, with himself as tormented by the delay as Nick. Some time he would. Make the next touch light, and the one after that. Feel Nick’s body taut and quivering beneath him, around him, watch his eyes fill with a wild, blind need that was a reflection of the look in his own.
Not now though. God, no, not now. His hand was on Nick before the man had finished speaking, his fingers wrapping around the hot, slick-tipped cock and working it with the same ruthless speed and strength he’d have used on himself at this point, his cock pushing into Nick with a matching force.
“Nick ... oh, fuck, yes.” He could feel his body draw in on itself, readying for that moment of utter stillness before it was wrenched apart and shattered, needing something more; one more slide into the tight, welcoming heat, one more repetition of his name from Nick’s lips, one more --
Nick came, silently and with a clench of his body so fierce that there was nothing John could do but follow him, crying out at the intensity of it. It lasted a lot longer than he was used to, each wave of pleasure forcing another cry from him until he collapsed on top of Nick, shuddering and gasping desperately for air.
Warm hands slid gently over John’s back and shoulders in long, soothing strokes. He felt Nick press an awkward kiss to his hair and the warm, moist air that he was exhaling wafting back over his own lips and chin as he struggled to gain enough control of his body again so that he could move.
“No, don’t,” Nick said, when John started to shift his weight. “Stay.”
“I wasn’t planning on going far.” John relaxed again, turning his head and finding Nick’s mouth with his own, kissing him and hoping some of what he was feeling was conveyed in the kisses because he didn’t think he could put it into words.
He propped himself up on one elbow and brought his hand to Nick’s face, cupping it and stroking along the line of his jaw in slow, gentle sweeps of his thumb, watching Nick’s eyes flicker in a regret he shared as John eased out of him in an inevitable separation.
The way that Nick relaxed and settled in beside him as he lay down, seemingly content and trusting, meant more than John could have put into words.
* * * * *
They’d been walking, Nick thought, practically forever.
He knew on a practical level that it had only been a few hours, and there had been times when it had most definitely been walking as opposed to climbing, although there’d been patches of that, too. The air was so fresh and sharp, with an edge of salt to it, that it made their surroundings seem even further removed from civilization than they were. Grass and gorse and hedges and all kinds of things that must have had real names, even if they escaped Nick and probably would have even if he’d cared what they were called, were all around them, and they’d seen more than their fair share of sheep and even a couple of animals that he’d thought were goats.
The sky was blue, surprisingly so -- it was the most perfect day he’d seen since he’d been on the island. Not that he’d been here all that long, but he’d been under the impression that good weather was few and far between in
Nick realized that he was panting a bit more than was comfortable and glanced up at John’s back in front of him, trying not to watch the way John’s ass flexed and relaxed with each step. “Can we ... stop for a minute?”
John turned and glanced back at him, looking not at all out of breath although his face was slightly flushed. “Aye, of course we can. There’s no rush now, is there?” He scanned the mountainside and then nodded at a flat slab of stone jutting out with a patch of short, wiry grass behind it. “Think you can stagger that far?”
Since it was no more than thirty feet away, Nick felt he could spare the energy to glare at John as he walked over to it, getting a chuckle in response.
“You’re doing well,” John said kindly as they sat down, placing their backpacks beside them. “This isn’t something that you’re used to, then?” He opened his pack and dug out two bottles of water, passing one to Nick before unscrewing the cap on his and taking a long drink, the muscles of his throat working as he swallowed.
“The walk I took yesterday into town was the longest one in years,” Nick admitted, tipping his bottle up and swallowing a mouthful of water. “It’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just ... well, I never know what I’m going to come across, you know? And we always moved around so much, there weren’t all that many places that were familiar.”
John gestured at what, even halfway up the mountain, was a spectacular view across rolling moorland out to the sea, dotted with distant pale smudges Nick knew were islands but couldn’t name. “And I know every rock on the island. I know who lives in every house you can see down there, I know what’s growing in every field ... and there’s times when that’s comforting, and times when I feel so damn
bored
--”
“You should go somewhere.” Nick abandoned the discomfort of the rock and sat on the ground instead, lying down flat and looking up at the sky. “Somewhere different. You should see
His view of blue sky and a trail of white cloud was replaced by John’s face as he moved to lie next to Nick and leaned over to kiss him “Sorry.” John smiled down at him. “It’s becoming a habit.” He rolled to his back. “Travel. Well, I could go abroad tomorrow, if I wanted. There was a job offer that didn’t work out and I ended up with a passport, an Icelandic phrasebook, and a really warm parka. I just -- there was nowhere I really wanted to go, and no one to go with. Michael and I used to talk about seeing the world -- but after Sheila -- well.”
“
John considered that for a moment without rushing to answer the way Nick was used to people doing, as if silence was a sin.
“I’d like that. And you’ll have to leave sometimes, won’t you? Or do you think folk won’t find you here and ask for help?” John glanced at Nick. “How did that work?” he asked, sounding mildly curious. “Them finding you, I mean. Did you -- did you advertise? Or are you registered with an organization?”
“Not really an official one.” Nick met John’s eyes briefly before they both turned their heads to look up at the sky again. “Sort of an underground. No one who didn’t know it was there would know. Does that make sense?” He looked at John again, and the other man nodded. “People who are having ... trouble, with that kind of thing ... eventually, they figure out who’ll believe them and who won’t, and they find someone who can help.” He grimaced; he’d always tried not to think about that too much. “Matthew handled most of it. I had enough trouble dealing with all the situations that we just kind of stumbled upon.”
“I remember you telling me that he was your business partner,” John said slowly. “You’ll be missing him in more ways than one, then; it must have felt as if there was nothing left of your life when he died. No one to ... shield you. No one who cared about you; just cared about what you could do.” John sat up and reached for his bottle of water, not looking at Nick, his voice just a little too even. “What now? You can’t stop doing what you do and you’ll need -- you’ll need another Matthew.” He looked at Nick then and there was a world of regret in his eyes. “I’d do anything to help you, but I can’t do that. Wouldn’t know where to start.”
“He shielded me because it was in his own interest.” Nick closed his own eyes because he didn’t want to see that look in John’s.
He’d only been here a few days; there were moments when he worried that he was bonding with John because he
was
trying to replace Matthew, because he didn’t want to be alone. Deep down, he didn’t think it was that simple. There was something about John that he was drawn to.
“I don’t want another Matthew.” Nick wanted to be honest with John. He breathed in slowly through his nose. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want a partner, but ... not like that. I don’t want to go back to that life.” He opened his eyes and rolled onto his side, looking at John. “I can’t run from what I am. I know that. But that doesn’t mean I have to live my life for everyone else but me.”
John moved over so that they were facing each other, looking less worried now for some reason. “Seems to me that we’ve both been doing a lot of that,” he murmured, propping his head on his hand. “Well, it’s in my interests to have you happy, that’s all. And I’d say you were old enough to know what’s best for you without anyone else’s help.” He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t have to be me, you know. I won’t -- I’d understand. You and me, we just, well, it happened, but it’s so soon after -- and it’s not like you’ve had time to find someone else, someone better.” John rolled his eyes in disgust at himself. “Christ, could I make a worse job of this?” He took a deep breath. “I don’t want you to feel obliged,” John said. “You stayed with Matthew for years because you didn’t want to hurt him. You don’t have to do that with me.”
“I wouldn’t want to hurt you,” Nick agreed, reaching out his hand and tracing John’s nose with a fingertip. “But I do want to stay here, with you, and see where this goes. You might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, and I’m not stupid enough to let something like that go. To let someone like you go.” Nick knew that his emotion was plain on his face as he slipped his hand back behind John’s neck and pulled him closer until their lips met.
John kissed him back without hesitation, his lips warm and gentle and his hand coming to rest on Nick’s waist. “It doesn’t bother you that this is all so fast? Three days and we’re somewhere other people don’t get to in months? Years, even?”
“Did I say it didn’t bother me?” Nick brushed his lips over John’s because it was so damned hard not to when the man was so close. “Well, no, actually, it doesn’t
bother
me. Worry me a little bit? Yeah. But I’ve spent my life learning to trust my instincts, or at least trying to, and I don’t want to go into this half-assed.” He hitched himself up a little higher and clarified. “If we’re going to try, I’m going to try all the way. I’m not going to hold back out of worry that it might not work out, because if I do, maybe it
won’t
work out. You know?”
“A self-fulfilling prophecy, aye,” John said unexpectedly. He lifted his shoulder in a small shrug. “I couldn’t walk away from you and live with myself afterwards, but it doesn’t mean I’m not scared. I’m not used to feeling like this. I’m not used to caring this much.” He pushed his hand through Nick’s hair, smoothing it back, and stared at him, his blue eyes serious. “And I do. When you fell on the beach, I was so fucking angry and hurt and I
still
couldn’t keep from going to you. I don’t think I ever could if I thought that you needed me.”
“I really am sorry about that.” Nick had apologized before, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t do it again. “I just ... you know that thing I was saying about trusting my instincts? Well, it doesn’t always work out as well as I’d like to. I didn’t trust them when they said you wouldn’t freak out if I told you what I was.”
“You don’t have to apologize.” John looked a little surprised. “It wasn’t your fault I got the wrong idea entirely. And thinking I’d understand about the ghosts and such when we’d only just met, well, I can see why you’d doubt yourself there. And I suppose you have to be careful who you tell.” He grinned, looking suddenly mischievous. “Looking the way you do, I’m thinking you’d have had a fair few people getting starry-eyed over you, if they’d known you could speak to the dead.”
Nick knew that John was trying to lighten the mood, but he couldn’t manage anything but a strained smile. “That’s one of the things Matthew and I used to argue about. He wanted to go big -- TV shows, websites, that kind of thing. He used to say that we’d be rolling in money. That we’d never have to worry about anything again.”
It had been typical of what Matthew had believed; that enough money could buy happiness.
John blinked at him. “He’d known you fifteen years or more and couldn’t see how much you’d hate something like that?” he said incredulously. “Money -- aye, well, there’s no denying it’s handy, but it’s not worth losing what you are to get it.” He shook his head. “I don’t think we’d have got along well, for all that we’ve got in common with us both liking you.” John squinted up at the sun, changing the subject. “We should carry on, if you’re rested.”
“Yeah, okay.” Nick got up and stretched, feeling a little bit bleaker than he should, what with the way the sun was shining and the clouds were blowing across the sky in a lazy, shifting pattern. There were sheep on the hillside below them making whatever noise it was sheep made, a sort of stuttered bleating sound, and all Nick could see was Matthew’s still face, and all he could hear was the hiss of the radiator and the distant wail of a siren.
“Don’t.” John reached out and took his hand, drawing Nick back to the present. “You’re remembering him and wishing it’d gone differently, aren’t you? The same way I have over my father, time and time again. And it doesn’t help to save them in your head; no matter what we do, they’re gone, and there’s no changing that, even for you.”